Death
by Abby -WCD
Summary: Post HBP: A new dream of Sirius causes a distressed Harry to have an internal chat with our favorite Dark Lord. Evil!Sirius.


_Death_

Warnings: **Spoilers** for **fifth and sixth** book. Evil!Sirius. Deathfic? o-o?

**_Author's Notes at end of fic. Enjoy._**

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"_Harry…you could've saved me…"_

"_Harry…you were right **there**…!"_

"_Harry…"_

"…_Harry…"_

"_...why won't you—?"_

In a fret of tears and a face full of sweat, Harry shot up in the miniature bed that was in the smallest room of the Dursley household, fingers clinging to the folds of his thin blanket. The panting boy took a moment to collect himself by sitting still in a rumpled heap of fright and shock, his breaths of fresh air forced down his throat slowly despite the biting pain they provided.

Harry didn't bother to reach for his glasses that were resting on the pathetic excuse for a night stand next to him; he knew perfectly well already that there was nothing worth seeing in the darkened room. The tightly packed trunk tucked away in the corner, the ripped Gryffindor banner hanging in shreds on the back of his door, the empty cage sitting on his just as empty desk – everything was already in place, was already able to be seen by the blind boy. But Harry didn't want to see the pseudo room again. He didn't want to see what he already knew was there.

Eventually, Harry's hazy gaze was dissolved into black as the legendary boy closed his eyes, closing his blurry view of his tattered bed sheets and covers. Once his eyes were shut again, the Boy-Who-Lived was able to revisit his dream he'd just had. The chalked figure of his deceased godfather passed through Harry's eyelids one more time, and he was able to see the late Sirius Black looking as alive as he had been before his last visit to the Department of Mysteries. Though, even though the unkempt wizard had the look of the living, he had the face that could pass him off as being nearly dead. His stare that he bored into Harry's face was filled with an unresolved confusion, and a near-line hatred that etched the outline of the older man's face.

"_I thought I was important to you…"_

Harry saw Sirius squeeze his eyes shut in desperation, unable to stand to look as his supposed godson any longer. A trace of anguish was found streaming down the man's face in his tears – tears that soon disappeared from his dark skin, tears that would never disappear from Harry's memory.

"_I thought you'd actually loved me, Harry…"_

"But I **_do _**love you." The admitted confession caused Harry's shoulders to quake, which only aroused the boy's distressed side once again. The tears that were once on Sirius's face now found their way onto Harry's cheeks, staining the boy's flesh. Harry wasn't even able to hold back the choked sob that was caught in his throat as his dreamt image of his godfather gathered a glare on his handsome face, causing his whole demeanor to take a drastic turn.

"_I don't know why I wasted my time on you. I don't know why I left you everything…"_

Hatred was the only clear emotion on Sirius Black's face. And that hatred only added to Harry's internal suffering. The hyperventilating child could clearly feel his godfather's ebony depths digging into his own blinded ones. Not wanting to go through the same rejection again, Harry shut his eyes in his dream setting, hoping to block out those hateful eyes. But they continued to glare at them, refusing to budge.

"_You supposed 'rescue mission' was the death of me! **You** were the death of me, Harry!"_

"NO!"

Harry snapped his eyes open in both worlds, unable to take the pain that came with the other's words. Breath uneven and vision foggy, Harry drew his bare, thin legs from under his covers and pulled them to his chest, arms soon encircling the bony branches. His cold skin soaked in sweat made Harry shiver in unease. The open window that flapped in chilly night air only added to the boy's discomfort, which caused Harry curl up into a tighter ball, head falling to his kneecaps.

"It's just a dream...just a—"

A wave of wind flew through Harry's small window, causing a hiss of air to sneak into the room. The words Sirius whispered to Harry in his dream resurfaced, forcing his godson to think. Slowly, the Boy-Who-Lived accepted those words as truth, his frail frame shaking as he did. The tears dusting off his cheeks again only added to the chill that was buried away in his cold heart.

"…no. I did kill him. I did kill Sirius."

With those words, Harry began to hear a faint laughter echoing in the corners of his mind. The sad excuse for a Gryffindor was unsure of what to make of the foreign voice. But as the seconds passed and the laughing continued, Harry had no choice but to question the new sound.

'_Who…are you?'_

The laughter took an abrupt stop. But after a short pause, the high mirthful sound was replaced by a dark chuckle, which sounded only too familiar to the young Hogwart's student.

'_**Someone who agrees with your trail of thoughts.'**_

Harry knew that voice. It only took him a second to identify the man behind the laughter. Or rather, he was able to identify the only monster that was able to have such a cracking laugh.

'_Voldemort.'_

The deep laughter continued, and Harry could feel the Dark Lord's smile smear between his thoughts.

'_**Harry Potter. Enjoying your summer vacation?'**_

Silence ensued. Before long, Harry found himself unraveling from his balled position. He soon found his way back under the covers, his back once again lying on top of the old mattress. The brave Gryffindor refused to respond to the snake, which didn't seem to faze the powerful wizard. Pain ripped at Harry's mind, causing the boy to suddenly cry out in pain. But as soon as the mysterious throbbing had appeared, it'd left, leaving Harry's mind dull with an after-ache. Voldemort's dark chuckle once again rattled the younger boy's feeble mind.

'_**When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. But you were never one for consideration or manners, were you? After all, you allowed you godfather to die—'**_

'_Shut up. I d-didn't kill him. Bellatrix did. S-she—!'_

'_**Then why do you stutter? You understand it was your own doing that he died. If you hadn't had recklessly gone to the Department of Mysteries…'**_

Harry knew what was coming. And he knew it was true.

But he couldn't let Voldemort win. He knew Sirius wouldn't forgive him if he lost here.

'_No. You sent me those dreams. You caused me to go there. Therefore you—'_

'_**No, little Harry. You were the one who decided to go there. You killed him.'**_

'_But—!'_

'**_But what? What do you want? Do you actually want my approval?'_**

Deep down, Harry knew he did. Harry knew that if Voldemort could see how he hadn't killed Sirius, he would be able to feel free from his guilt. But he knew he would receive no acceptance or sympathy from the Dark Lord. But even so, Harry _wanted_ to believe that he could actually be innocent…

'_**You'll obtain no pity from me. I give no mercy for the weak, child.'**_

Through his sweaty locks of hair and his tear soaked face, Harry let out a small, sad laugh of his own. The ceiling of his room was a blurry mess of white, which caused Harry's mind to wander.

'_Will you at least end it, then?'_

This time, there was a prolonged silence. The Dark Lord was apparently pondering what the famous Boy-Who-Lived had just asked for, what Voldemort himself had been trying to achieve for over a decade. But now that the plea for death was on the tips of the boy's lips, the whole situation dealing with Harry Potter's death came to Voldemort in a new light – a light that the Dark Lord had never considered before. With a hiss of disapproval, the snake took a second to respond, words being spoken in the Parseltongue language.

'_**You'll die when I decide you do.'**_

'_And that'll be…?'_

Harry could tell from the pain pounding in his head once again that the Dark Lord wasn't amused with his attitude. Apparently, the heartless snake wasn't used to his so-called opponent being so uncaring and blunt. And apparently, Voldemort didn't enjoy Harry's change in heart.

'_**Death isn't a gift, Potter. Once you die, there's nothing left for you.'**_

'_But death is but the next great adventure.'_

'_**Quoting a dead Headmaster isn't worth the spirit or the energy. No one knows about death until he experiences it.'**_

'_Then how do you know there's nothing after death?'_

'_**How do you know there's anything?'**_

The aggravation growing the Dark Lord's voice caused Harry's headache to increase, border lining the aching into a full-blown migraine. Harry screwed his eyes shut, blocking out whatever light there possibly was in his room, and he kept his form still, avoiding movement of any kind at any cost. Each slight twitch he made caused his head to erupt in a fury of pain.

'_I don't. But neither do you. You'll find out someday, though.'_

'**_Mark my words. I will never die. Never.'_**

Without thinking, Harry continued. He wasn't even aware of his slip until the thought had escaped his mind.

'_A bunch of Horcruxes won't stop you from dying.'_

'…_**what?'**_

Harry's eyes widened slowly. Quickly, without even taking his newly developed migraine into consideration, Harry shot up in his bed, pain overwhelming him afterwards. He fell back onto the mattress, covers tangled around his waist. As he tried to pull himself out, Voldemort took a grasp of the situation, of how much Harry Potter possibly knew, and drove into the boy's mind, not bothering to be careful as he slammed through Harry's memories. The migraine tripled instantly, causing the Boy-Who-Lived to scream. Voldemort ignored the cry of pain as he continued to dig through the child's inner thoughts.

Once he found what he was looking for, Voldemort watched the memories unfold in front of him – the sessions the young Potter had had with Dumbledore replaying in Harry's mind. It was only after he had played every moment Harry had spent with the old Headmaster that Voldemort released the memories, which lessened the throbbing in Harry's head. Thankful from the reprieve, Harry lay on his bed, panting like a winded animal. His murky emerald depths couldn't even focus long enough to stay open to stare at the pallid ceiling.

'_**That old bastard. He thought he could train you to rid of me.'**_

The disgust wasn't hidden in Voldemort's voice. Harry didn't have the will or the power to respond, so he didn't even attempt to respond. The Dark Lord continued as if he hadn't stopped.

'_**But you still know. Which means you must die. Immediately.'**_

'_You'll come and kill me? Really?'_

Voldemort didn't like the relief veiled in Harry's voice. Voldemort didn't like to grant his nemeses their wishes. He had no intention of doing so, either.

'_**No. I'll just make it look like you died, and then lock you up so you can continue to have these lovely thoughts about your godfather.'**_

Harry felt that part of his heart break again.

'_No. You said you'd kill me.'_

'_**But you want to die. If death is your wish, I'll make you live.'**_

Green eyes wide, mouth slack, Harry sat up in his bed again, feet already scrambling to get out of the small cot. But before he could get as far as the door of his bedroom, another flash of pain glazed Harry's mind, causing him to fall to the floor in a heap. The agony continued, keeping the Boy-Who-Lived off of his feet and rooted to the floor. Even as his tears – Sirius's tears – streamed down his face, Harry was unable to budge an inch. His suffering was unrivaled. Even the cracked responses in his mind couldn't stand the unbearable pain.

'_No – death – Sirius—!'_

'_**No, Harry. I win this time.'**_

But Harry didn't hear Voldemort's response. He'd already passed out cold on the floor, head continuing with the racking misery. Harry wasn't awake when those masked figures stole into his house, and Harry wasn't awake when he was thrown in the cell that Voldemort had promised him earlier.

And to Voldemort's infuriation, Harry never woke up again. **(1)**

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**(1): So...yeah. I know how I take the ending, but I guess you could take it mutiple ways. Whatever you'd like (hence why I was unclear of the deathfic warning).**

N/A: Whoo. Very un-betaed. I need a new HP beta, since right now about three of mine are out of town (and I'm planning on updating Mind Trap and having it betaed). Any takers?

Well, it was fun. A two and a half hour piece, directly typed onto the computer. Well, the first page was handwritten. Then I got lazy.

Leave a note on what you think. It'll motivate me to update on this site more often.


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